


Places To Be

by Susu_st



Category: High School Musical (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Established Relationship, Flirting, Fluff, Humour, Idiots in Love, Innuendo, M/M, Ryan has the flu, Slice of Life, sharpay is only mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:53:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22815757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Susu_st/pseuds/Susu_st
Summary: "Why do you say that every time?" Chad laughs. “If I am poisoning you, I’m doing an awful job if you’re still kicking enough to pester me.”“Just know I’ve noted down your choice to use the word ‘pester’ in association with me, and when I’m able, you’ll face the full force of my wrath.”
Relationships: Chad Danforth/Ryan Evans
Comments: 14
Kudos: 350





	Places To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Totally self indulgent. This is why fic can be great, you can imagine different stories for well-loved pieces of media and keep it alive.

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Ryan feels like shit. That's the purest way to describe it, and he'd made sure to make Chad aware of this fact all week. Only, it's Saturday now. Chad's at work. And so he's made do with mumble-yelling impassioned expletives at the ceiling when the mood strikes. (He also texts Chad once or twice, questioning the purpose of a world where pain such as this can prosper, when he's feeling particularly sorry for himself.)

His breath is thick and hot in his mouth in that unpleasant, suffocating way. He's wished for death an unbecoming number of times. The last few times he was only mostly-kidding.

It could be worse, he supposes. He could still be at that stage where merely sitting up induced enough nausea to send him vomiting into the extremely glamorous puke bucket at the side of his bed. Now at least he can manage to walk the 14 steps to and from the bathroom, without puking, when he absolutely must. The 20 steps to the kitchen, however, is another story.

Just as he begins summoning the energy to fetch a glass of cold water, Ryan hears the click of the lock, a jangle of keys, the front door thudding closed and the customary, obnoxiously cheerful: "Honey—I'm home!"

Ryan remembers when Chad used to do corny things like that ironically. That time had came and went long ago, now it would be pious if he were to mock anyone for being so sentimental. When you do things ironically for long enough, eventually they just become who you are. Ryan has known this for a while, ever since he’d made fun of Sharpay’s use of the words like ‘frick’ and ‘jeez’ in lieu of swearing only to have absorbed the terms into his own everyday vocabulary when she wasn’t even present.

He perks up, though. Perhaps it’s too soft, but his heart leaps as best it can at the sound of Chad’s voice.

He rolls over in bed and kicks the duvet away from him, the previously heavenly heat now sweltering. He moans pitifully, (for the umpteenth time today) his head feels like it's stuffed with cotton wool and the insufferable ache radiating from the centre of his brain hasn't been soothed by sleep as he'd hoped. He hears Chad call his name, but can't muster any will to call back. He'll find him soon enough. Dead or alive, it doesn’t matter. (He finds it interesting that his headache became slightly worse upon Chad's arrival.)

He stretches his arms with an involuntary groan and grimaces at the feeling of stale sweat meeting air. Leaning to the left, he checks the time on the bedside clock: 18:34, the red LEDs inform him. Chad's banging about in the kitchen ceases, and footsteps begin approaching the bedroom. Ryan's licks his lips, throat raw and mouth dry.

The door clicks opens and light spills in from the hall. Chad shuffles in, flicks the bedroom light on, hair still neat but slightly fluffed from a long days work and glass of water in his hand. The warmth that blooms in his chest is purely fever-induced. Undoubtably.

"Hey," he says softly, and seems unable (or unwilling) to stop a smile tugging at his lips. "For you," he hands the water to Ryan who gulps it down gratefully.

"How-" a cough cuts him off, "How was work?"

"Who cares—how are you?"

"Well. Everything hurts; my boyfriend is currently a foot away from a bucket containing my vomit; I'm cold but I'm too hot; I’m missing closing night of my show—I'm just sick of being sick." Ryan places the glass on the bedside table and sighs sulkily. "...I don't feel much better from this morning, but better compared to yesterday. I can sit up and talk, now, for short periods of time."

"I think the only thing you said to me on Thursday was something about your lungs decomposing and what’s the point of having a twin if they won’t give you their organs. Not dramatic at all. I hate seeing you sick, even if it can be entertaining," he bends down and presses a kiss to Ryan's clammy forehead. He pulls back after brushing his hand through his hair.

"You've changed your tune. Wasn't it just this morning you requested I 'die quietly'?"

"I said it with only love in my heart," Chad replies.

He doesn't think he's even aware of the upturn of his mouth, and Ryan feels gooey at the sight of it—clearly the fever is more severe than he previously thought.

“While I'm enjoying my time as the slutty nurse, I'm glad you're feeling a bit better.”

“Slutty? Have I missed something, what part of this has been remotely salacious?”

“Eh— if you wait a minute, I'll get naked,” He says, pulling off his tie and starting with his shirt buttons. “Well, I intend to be naked in the next 30 seconds. I admit I’m getting changed into pyjamas, but I’ll give you a peak of the good stuff first.”

“I don’t think my brain will send any messages to my dick right now, it’s too busy overseeing the fight between my immune system and what I can only presume to be the plague,” Ryan squeezes his eyes shut for a second, to try and use his eyeballs to push away his headache. It doesn't work.

“Don't take this away from me. I admit I've not got the short skirt or the tits but I'm about to get naked so... that's gotta count for something.”

“Again, which part of this has been at all slutty?”

“The part where you get better and fuck me in my uniform? If I had a uniform. You can fuck me without it, surely.” He’s in his pyjamas now, and Ryan, who is who he is and despite it all, is a little mournful that he couldn’t appreciate his body.

“If I’m ever in good health again, fine. I’ll fuck you.”

“Don’t sound too enthusiastic about it.” He strokes Ryan’s hair again, but this time doesn't stop. Barely a couple minutes pass, but Ryan feels himself drifting to sleep again. "I brought home some chicken soup, if you want some?."

He hasn't gagged at the thought of food since lunchtime, so: "Mmmm." He feels his body relax as Chad continues petting his hair—but. No. He's stopping.

"Are you post-verbal now?"

"I'm sick, my usual eloquence is not to be expected. Keep petting my hair. And bring the soup through. And stop talking to me, I don’t have the energy and you know I can’t shut up at the best of times. Save me from myself."

Usually, he’d never eat in room, but this bed has seen much worse in the last 48 hours. He’s so tired, their conversation really having drained him. It’s worth it, because he is considerably cheered up. He says it anyway, as it is true, and Chad will listen, and Chad will also smile to himself when Ryan starts talking again anyway, unprompted.

He pats Ryan’s cheek affectionately. "As much as I wish I could tear my arm off and leave it here while the rest of me fetches your soup: I'm afraid even I have my limits."

He leaves (sick bucket in hand, the angel) and Ryan wriggles until he's sitting up (the prime soup slurping position). He realises the new heat warming his face might have less to do with his fever and more to do with his being smitten over a particular dark-skinned man with the pretty eyes who’s taking care of him and indulging in his whining.

Chad returns, turning off the bedroom light and instead lighting the room with the tall lamp at their door.

“This first, then soup,” he warns, setting the mug down on their bedside table and unscrewing the cap of a light brown bottle that Ryan hopes he never has to see again after this bout of sickness. He obediently takes the spoon in his mouth when Chad offers, and swallows it down.

His feels his face twist—it’s repugnant. The only words Ryan feel even partially describe the grim taste are 'pissy' and 'acid'.

"What the frick even is that?" He rasps, then clears his throat. "Did you just poison me?"

There’s the smile.

"Why do you say that every time?" Chad laughs. “If I am poisoning you, I’m doing an awful job if you’re still kicking enough to pester me.”

“Just know I’ve noted down your choice to use the word ‘pester’ in association with me, and when I’m able, you’ll face the full force of my wrath,” Ryan fades as he finishes the sentence, head throbbing again to the point where he has to scrunch his face up and shut his eyes.

“I love you, too. Now, just have some of the soup to keep your energy up. You haven’t eaten in almost two full days.”

Honestly, it’s kind of embarrassing. For Chad, that is. Here Ryan is, kinda stale after wearing the same clothes he’s slept in for he past three nights, with slightly greasy hair and a deathly pale complexion. And yet here Chad is, watching him drink the soup and looking at him like he’s the most precious star in the sky. A few peaceful moments pass.

“Is it bad if I’m kind of hard from all that talk of fucking earlier?”

"Why do I put up with you again?" It's a sighed question. Ryan finds he sighs around Chad often.

"Um, because of my monster cock?" Chad says incredulously, as if he couldn't believe Ryan had dared forget.

Ryan’s cheeks crimson and he glares at him, managing to summon his usual grievous austerity despite his banging headache. He twists his mouth in disgust. "I want to break up—immediately," he says, tongue sharp.

Chad licks the smirk from his lips and plops himself beside him on the bed, soup in his hand. "Finish your soup, you can reevaluate your life choices then."

**Author's Note:**

> [My other fic, similar to this, show it some love if you want💕](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15497418)


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